


Books Worth Rereading

by Lizzy0305



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 12:17:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2191530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzy0305/pseuds/Lizzy0305
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wakes up without his memories. He only has a book and a piece of parchment with an address. He goes there, hoping to receive help from a man he ought to know but can’t remember. HPSS, Slash</p>
            </blockquote>





	Books Worth Rereading

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheankelor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheankelor/gifts).



> So once again my dearest Sexy.Lil.Emo went through this and edited it for me! I'm very grateful darling! All remaining mistakes are mine!
> 
> It doesn't really matter which book Harry is reading. I just chose the one I'm currently reading.

Harry Potter woke up with a piece of paper in his left hand, a book in his right and without his memories. He sat up and realized he did not even know his own name.  He did know who he was, where he was, what he was doing here. Panicking, he looked around. The bed was big, but he was alone – thank Merlin – and it didn't seem anyone had slep next to him at all. The room seemed faintly familiar but he couldn't recall why. On the nightstand he found a weird long rod and a picture of two men, one younger, the other older with a beak like nose. They both had black hair, though one’s was short and unruly, while the other’s was long and straight.

The green eyed young man smiled up at Harry, who shrieked and fell off the bed.

“Did that fucking picture just move?” asked the confused young man aloud, scampering towards the nightstand. When he looked at the picture again, the figures weren’t moving but he could swear the beak nosed one’s expression had changed. Previously, it was sneering, looking out of the picture, now however it was watching the young man next to him and smiled softly.

Harry picked up the long piece of wood, wondering what it was. It was too long and thick to be a chopstick. He shrugged and dropped it onto the bed.

“Is there someone here?” He cried out warily, but something told him there was nothing here that would hurt him.

No answer came, it was just peace and quiet. He decided it was time he looked around the place. He found it was a flat, small but comfortable looking, one bedroom, and bathroom, a living room, a small kitchen that had an abnormally huge fireplace built in it and that was all. He found several other pictures, mostly about redheads and a girl with big bushy (very bushy) hair. The young man with the short messy hair was in a lot of other pictures as well, and looking into the bathroom mirror, he realized that was how he looked. Well... it wasn’t bad but there was a ridiculous, thunder shaped scar on his head. But at least his eyes were nice. They looked like his mother’s, at least if that woman with the ginger hair and similar green eyes was, as he suspected his mom. The gingerness was overwhelming on the pictures and Harry also suspected that the redhead young male who smiled at him from every surface could maybe be, if not a brother (they looked nothing alike) but at least a very close cousin. He definitely felt like family. So did the bushy haired young woman.

As Harry walked around his own flat, his panic subsided. He didn't know what had happened to him to forget all his memories but he wasn’t in danger, he wasn’t hurt, nor in pain. He was perfectly healthy; he just didn't remember the previous twenty three-twenty five years of his life.

He went back to the bedroom with a fresh mug of delicious coffee in hand, and plopped down onto the bed. He took the piece of note in hand. Interestingly, it was written on parchment. Harry wondered what kind of man he was to use parchment, instead of a freaking notebook. But seriously though, how tedious it must be to walk around with rolls of parchment in his arms, instead of one single notebook?

The note said:

_Hello Harry,_

_yes, that’s your name. Listen, don’t panic, (_ Yeah, thanks _,_ thought Harry _) you’re safe. For now. Go to the address below. No matter how much of a bastard he is, he will help you while you don't remember. Trust him. Go to him, Harry, and hurry, you don’t have much time. Stay with him, you can’t go anywhere else._

_Take care,_

_a friend_

_PS: Take the book with you._

Harry looked at the address on the bottom of the parchment. It was in London, so he hoped he was there too. He didn't know where he kept his money or if he could drive, or afford any other means of transportation. He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out some big gold round coins, surely just some toy thing. He shrugged and dropped them onto his bed, next to the useless piece of wood.

He looked around the bookshelves and was glad to find a London map. The address he had to visit wasn’t that far, so he decided he could walk there. He grabbed a jacket (hopefully his) and his keys (hopefully for the flat) and strolled out into the cool morning. He was grasping into the letter and the book as if his life depended on it.

He didn't meet anyone on the way to this mysterious address, well no one suspicious or something. The building looked old and menacing but he walked in surprisingly cheerfully considering his circumstances. He found the door he was looking for and knocked on it just slightly hesitant.

“Oh,” said Harry surprised when the beak nosed, long black haired man opened the heavy door. “You’re the guy from the picture.”

“What picture, Potter?” Asked the man and stepped away from the door, letting Harry inside.

“The one on my nightstand. So Potter,” Harry tasted the name, “that’s my last name then. Harry Potter. I’m called Harry Potter. Well, frankly that’s a ridiculous name.”

“Yes, it is,” agreed the man. “What is this nonsense, and since _when_ do you keep a picture of me on your nightstand. And more importantly _why_?”

“I don't remember. Anything at all. All I have is my memories from this morning, a book and a letter.” The man frowned at him. Harry didn't like the sensation that expression caused in him. He didn't like making this man angry, he was somehow sure of that. “The letter said I should come to you. And that I can trust you.”

“Are you being serious, Potter?”

“Yes, uhm... sorry, what’s your name?”

“Severus Snape,” came the reply quite automatically.

“Severus... I like that. So, yes, Severus, I’m serious. I have no idea what’s going on.”

“No, _Snape_. You don't call me Severus. _You_ don't _get to_ call me Severus,” flared the long haired man.”

“What? But why?” Asked Harry. “Surely we’re friends. And Snape...  it just sounds so formal. I like Severus much better.”

“ _You little_ \- good lord, I need some tea.” Severus snapped then pulled out something from his pocket, turning around. The next moment there was a swishing sound and a tray appeared on the table. Out of fucking nowhere.

“Holy shit!” Harry cried backing to the door. “How the hell did you do that?”

Snape huffed again and sat down, pouring two cups of tea. Harry carefully edged closer, then swept his arms over the tea tray, looking for strings or anything. There wasn’t any. Snape watched his movements with widening eyes. Harry sat down slowly.

“Where is your wand, Potter?” Severus asked slowly.

Harry snapped up his head, the teacup almost falling out of his hand. Well, that was an interesting question. “I’m sorry?”

“Your wand. Where is it?” The man looked over him as if he could see it poking out somewhere.

Harry regarded him for a few minutes then raising an eyebrow, he answered, “In my pants were it belongs.” Then he realized that he had a picture of this man on his nightstand. “Or wait, are we lovers? Because I think I could definitely pict-“

“Excuse me?” Cried Severus indignantly. “ _Lovers_?”

Harry placed a hand over his crotch. “Well, didn't you just ask to see my ‘wand’?”

Severus gaped at him, turning red within the second. “No, Potter, you idiot! Your wand! Your magic wand! Eleven inches, holly with phoenix core, where is it?”

“Eleven inches?” Harry asked slightly awestruck, looking down on himself.

“Not that you utter fool!” Severus shouted, drawing five fingers through his long hair. “Your bloody wand! It looks something like this! The one that channels your magic!” Explained the man then flicked his wand at his cup that turned into a hedgehog. He poked the animal and it turned back into china.

Harry watched the episode with his mouth hanging open. “Oh, oh! So we’re like magicians?”

There was a momentary silence where endless black eyes just stared at him. “No, Potter we’re bloody wizards!” Severus moaned desperate. “Where is it? You can’t do magic without it.”

“I think it’s on my nightstand. There was a rod there.”

“Did you just call your wand a _rod_ , Potter?” Gasped the man as if Harry had insulted him. “Wait, on your nightstand? Your nightstand? What kind of a wizard are you, you bloody fool, leaving home without your wand?!”

“Hey, I didn't know I was a wizard!” Harry shouted back. “It was just a fucking piece of wood. Stop shouting at me, I don't remember anything, okay? I don't even know who the fuck you are. I just had a damn parchment telling me to come here and trust you because you can help. But instead of helping you just keep shouting. I don't know that’s going on, okay?! So stop with the damn shouting.” Harry finished with a huff.

“You honestly don't remember me? Or anything before you woke up this morning? Not your friends, or, or Voldemort.”

“My friends? The ginger and the bushy haired one? They are friends? I thought they were family.” Harry sighed. “And what’s Voldemort?”

Severus snorted. “Voldemort is not a what it is a who. And he’s dead. You killed him in fact. Your friends-“

“I killed someone? I’m a murderer?” Harry asked panic rising in him again.

“You’re a hero, Potter. The Saviour of the Wizarding World, that’s what they call you.”

“But... but I killed someone.” Harry mumbled scared, mostly of himself. What kind of a man was he?

“He was a very horrible man, Potter. And besides, I’m a murderer, too.”

Harry jerked back so fast the whole couch moved back slightly with him as well. He waved towards Severus, “That’s not really reassuring you know, I’m supposed to trust you, not _fear_ you.”

 “One does not exclude the other.” Snape’s smirk was definitely evil. “Now, give me that letter.”

As Severus read the letter Harry looked around the flat. He doubted he had ever been here, however given the gaping holes in his memories, it could be that he just forgot about it. It was nice, tidy, cosy, and filled with books. He could see the kitchen on the other side of the doorway and he counted four other doors, all of them closed at the moment.

“Not very helpful. Give me the book.”

Harry did. When their hands touched, he smiled softly. It felt nice.

“I’ve never heard of it.”

The young man shrugged. “Neither have I. I think I should read it. I have a feeling that if I read it, things will be okay again.”

“Read a book and get back your memories?” Snape sneered. “Well, some literature surely couldn't harm you.” With that he tossed the book back to Harry. “Meanwhile, if you don't mind, I’ll do some research on my own.”

“With magic?” Harry asked hopefully.

Snape stared at him. “You are a wizard, Potter, one of the greatest of our time. I assure you, the second you get back your memories, all this magic I just displayed will seem something tedious to you and not at all amazing.”

Harry leaned back on the couch and opened the book on the first page. “I doubt I would ever think you are anything but amazing. Memories or not.”

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

Severus wasn’t used to having guests in his home, hence he was surprised to wake up in the middle of the night and hear someone shouting, “In the back of his head? Whaaaaaat? But...Oh god!”

He considered marching into the living room and hexing Potter out of his flat but instead he just fluffed up his pillow and tried to go back to sleep. He hoped the imbecile heard him saying which the guest room was, as he wouldn’t like to wake up the next time to Potter scrambling over him to get in bed.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

By next morning nothing had changed, except Harry realized his book was magic. No matter how many pages he read, he never got through the first half of the book. Pointing this out to Severus during breakfast earned himself an earnest laughter from the man. So Harry decided it was worth mentioning.

“The guest room is there for you to use, if you get bored with my couch,” offered Severus, when Harry, after falling asleep on the sofa last night, rubbed his back.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled but plopped back onto the couch, from where he could see Severus work in one of the rooms. Before breakfast he had asked what the man did, and Snape only said, “Brewing.” Harry had carefully inquired if it was alcohol, because it smelled funny. As an answer, Snape had tossed him out of the room.

Stretching out on the settee, Harry returned to his book. It was good. Too good.

This was how Harry spent the next few days in Severus’s home. He mostly read, cooked lunch and dinner, while Severus worked. Sometimes he had to give some blood or stand still while Severus prodded him with his wand. His magic wand. But no matter how hard he tried, Snape couldn't find the key to the mystery of his memories.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

 “Shit, shit, shit, don't you dare.” Harry mumbled spooning lunch into his mouth.

“Excuse me?” Asked Snape with a sigh.

“Not you, him. He’s killing the girl. I don't want her to die. I like her.”

Severus folded the papers in his hand. He was reading something called the Daily Prophet. It was a Wizarding newspaper where the pictures moved. Harry, when he first saw it, grabbed it and stashed it into the fire, screaming. Severus wasn’t pleased.

The man stood up and walked away, leaving Harry to finish his chapter in peace.

Harry read on and didn't hear Severus leave but the older man could hear Harry’s gasps and cry of, “What? No, way!” not much later.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

It was a quiet evening when Harry reached a point in the book, where he just kept shuddering.

“What’s going on with you?” Severus asked, sipping from his wine, nicely tucked in with a tartan blanket.

“There are these things here...” Harry mumbled. “I don't like them. They suck the happiness out of people. It’s creepy.”

“Idiot...” Snape murmured, but stood up and sat next to Harry. He covered both of them with the blanket and Harry suddenly felt much better. Warmer. Safer.

“Do we do this often?” He asked, looking up into the black eyes.

Severus snorted. “We don't do anything like this, Potter.”

“We should, Severus.”

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

It was almost four in the morning, when Harry reached the end of the chapter, feeling slightly lost. He was angry and sad, but a bit happy too. He wanted to talk to someone, but Severus was asleep. However considering how sleepy he felt, he suspected not much talking could be done that night anyways, even if the man was up.

Regardless, he walked to Snape’s bedroom and opened the door quietly. He watched the seemingly fast asleep figure, motionless under the warm blankets.

“What?” mumbled a deep voice, rough from sleep.

“I hate rats,” murmured Harry, scratching his neck.

“So do I,” Sighed Severus. “Go to bed, Potter.”

“Okay,” answered Harry closing the door behind him as he swiftly moved through the darkness. He lay on the other side of the bed, careful not to disturb the other man.

Harry fell asleep the second his head touched the pillow.

The deep voice remained silent.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

 “Dragons!” Potter cried and Severus huffed irritated.

“Put down that damn book and come here. Lunch is ready.”

“Be there in a sec.”

“Yes, you said that an hour ago and I’ve been waiting ever since. Come here this instant or I pour this bowl of hot soup right over that big head of yours.”

Harry looked up. “But... but dragons.” He pointed at the book.

“If I have to wait one more minute for you, Potter, you will be meeting a real dragon, breathing real fire down your neck.”

Harry laughed. “You can’t breathe fire,” he said but stood up none the less.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Oh, do you wish to test your statement then? And my patience?”

“I think I’ve been testing your patience for a few days now,” Harry grinned as he went to the kitchen table. Walking past Severus, he let his fingers brush over the man’s shoulder. “And you don't seem impatient or unwelcoming at all. I would even say you are glad to see me here.”

“Oh you would, wouldn’t you, Potter.” Severus huffed curtly.

“So how is research going? Are you sure I can’t help you?”

“You? Helping me? How do you wish to help, Potter when you constantly forget you are a damn wizard?”

Harry shrugged but felt suddenly a bit hurtful. He wanted to be useful but given his amnesia, all he could do was read the book. They agreed it should be something important if he had it in his hand and the note specifically said to take it with him.

“Oh Merlin don’t you start pouting now, Potter. You're doing all you can: lunch and dinner and reading. And you're doing them fine. As far as I know, you’re a hardworking man, so think of this as a holiday. And enjoy it. We’ll get back your memories in no time.”

“You think?” Harry asked, swallowing a spoonful of soup.

“I know, Potter. One of the greatest experts of Dark Arts Theories and Potions is working on your case.”

“Oh really? Who?” Inquired the young man intrigued.

His question was followed by dead silence, then an irritated, “ _Me_ , Potter. _Me_. _I’m_ working on your blasted problem.”

“Oh,” Harry laughed. “Sorry.” Then after a few more minutes he added, “So, do you need more of my blood? Or other... bodily fluids?”

Severus snapped up his head, his glance searching for emerald eyes. Even Potter’s expression, that small teasing smirk on the corner of his lips, was utterly full of innuendoes.

The older wizard just shook his head and murmured, “Bloody Gryffindor.”

“What’s a Griffindoor?”

Severus groaned.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

“He’s back,” said Harry tugging at Severus’ robes.

“Who’s back?” Sighed the spy, leaning back on the kitchen chair. Potter had taken over his living room so if he wanted to read, he had to do so in his bloody kitchen.

“The bad guy. After like... fourteen years, he’s back. I don't like it.” Potter babbled. “I mean, I like him. He has... sass. But I don't like the fact he’s back. He’s killing people. Things will go bad from here.”

“Oh my. What shall we do now,” sneered Severus. “Why don't you get your teddy and a blanket, maybe those will chase away all the bad things, hm?” He teased Harry.

Potter was smiling when he said, “Well, yes. That’s what I’m doing.” He tugged on Severus’s robes again as he asked softly, “Why don't you come to the couch, too. There’s plenty of space.”

There wasn’t _plenty_ of space. There was a little corner, just enough to sit down and the moment Severus did so, Potter was right next him, warm and soft. He took the blanket Severus had brought with himself and covered both of them.

The young man’s constant gasps, fidgeting and murmurs didn't annoy Severus anymore.

After a while, he put down his own book, closed his eyes and just listened to the noises Potter made.

The evening was pleasant and peaceful and just... nice.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

Severus heard noises from the living room so he went out. Potter was crying. Tears streamed on his face. If Severus hadn’t been so surprised he would have laughed, given not even in his wildest dream would he have guessed that there would be a day when Harry Freaking Potter would be crying in his living room, because of a book.

But he was. And instead of laughing Severus sighed. “What’s wrong now?”

Potter reached out for him. “Come here, please. It’s a sad part, I think someone very important just died. Please come here.”

“I’m not your cuddlebear, Potter.” Severus snapped. The tearful green eyes were heartbreaking to look at.

“Yes, yes you are.” Potter mumbled. “Come here. I need you.” The young man’s eyes were back on the book. When he didn't hear any movement, he did a come hither motion with his finger, saying between sobs, “Come now, this is really bad.”

To his own surprise, Severus, just like that, actually started flying towards Potter against his own free will, as if being dragged on strings.

“Wow. Did I just do magic?” Potter gasped, watching his own hand and the figure in front of him. His eyes were red and sore from crying and Severus wondered for a second, just what on earth was this book.

“You did _accidental magic_ , Potter, which is very dangerous. It’s based on emotions and-“

“Well, look where my emotions had brought you,” smirked Potter, putting the book down.

“On my knees?” Severus sneered. “Yes, Potter-“

“No,” interrupted Harry with a sly smile. “Between my legs.”

And just then, Severus looked down as if noticing only now where he was. Indeed he was kneeling in front of Potter, right between those firm thighs.

“Didn't you say someone was dead?” Severus asked suddenly, standing up just to sit down next to Potter.

Tears started rolling from Potter’s green eyes and the long haired wizard smirked. Harry opened the book again. “I don't know if he’s dead yet. He fell through this... this thing. He might come back.”

“The dead don’t come back, Potter. If they do, that’s only trouble.”

Potter just shrugged then leaned his messy haired head on Severus shoulder. “Read to me?” He asked, holding the book towards Severus.

Severus took the tattered volume and held it open where Potter had left it off. “ _The Only One He Ever Feared_? What a ridiculous chapter title...” He grunted but read on.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

Potter had tears in his eyes again. Severus wondered if everyone reacted like this to the book or just Potter was overly sensitive. Most likely the latter.

“Who died now?”

“No one,” said Harry smiling. “Happy tears.” He went on, pointing at said wet drops on his face.

“Happy tears?” Severus echoed half amused, half horrified.

“Yep,” beamed the young man. “Brought forth by loyalty.”

“It’s absurd how you react to that novel, honestly.”

“But... but... the _feels_.”

“Excuse me? The what now?” Severus drawled.

“All these... these feelings. Love, loyalty, bravery, friendship, anger, hurtfulness, spite... it’s just too much.”

“No, Potter, you are the one who’s just too much sometimes.” Severus groaned then returned to examining Harry’s blood.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

“You little shit, I know you’re up to something,” mumbled the young man lying on the couch. Severus watched him from the doorway, his eyes lingering on the nice, round butt.

“Dinner?” He asked. They usually ate together, though Potter finished making dinner way before Severus finished brewing. “Oi, Potter!”

He was still ignored, which was something Severus wasn’t used to.

“Are you deaf, you imbecile?”

Still nothing.

“Potter?” Severus tried again, louder, but the young man remained nose-deep in the book.

“Oh, Potter, look, there’s Death Eaters in the living room.”

Still silence.

“Oh and here comes Voldemort. Potter help, he’s killing me. Potter? _POTTER_? I’m dying here you ungrateful little shit.”

No answer yet again.

“Harry... I want to fuck you.”

Potter just kept on reading, blind and deaf to the real world.

Severus took a deep breath, turned around and smashed in the door behind him.

Harry looked up searching for the source of the noise. “Severus... was that you?” He asked, uncertain. “Did you talk to me? ...Severus...?”

Severus didn't have dinner that evening. Harry didn't know what was wrong.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

Potter was crying again, earnestly this time. He actually sobbed over the book, his tears wetting the paper. He was sitting on a soft rug on the ground, leaning against the couch, where this time Severus had been reading.

Severus sat up and placed his legs on Potter’s both sides.

“He’s in so much pain... He’s suffering...” He cried as Severus rubbed his stiff shoulders, hoping that the contact would help.

Severus kept this posture up during the evening, then a point came where Harry shut the book closed and pushed it away. The volume slid on the wooden floor, while the young man stared at it, tears falling heavily from his eyes.

“What happened? Who-“ asked Severus softly.

“He killed him... the bastard... he... it can't be... he can’t be... dead...”

Severus’s hands slithered from Harry’s shoulders over his collar bones and then down his chest, embracing him from behind as much as he could. Harry buried his eyes in his hands as he sobbed over the death of a fictional character but this time, Severus didn't feel like laughing. Harry’s devastation seeped through him as well, so he kept silent and nuzzled the side of the young man’s head.

Harry turned towards the touch, seeking the comfort and warmness. He didn't know how it happened but suddenly he found warm lips with his mouth.

Someone sighed softly.

Harry kissed wildly.

He turned back with his whole upper body at first but that wasn’t enough. Soon he knelt up between the older wizard’s legs. He swept away his tears with edge of his palm and looked at Snape.

“Are you sure we’re not lovers?” Harry asked breathlessly, but smiling.

Severus backed away fast, suddenly remembering why he tried to keep his distance from Potter. “I did not lose my memories, thank you very much, so I am most certain than we are not in the least lovers.”

Severus tried to stand up but Potter grabbed him and made sure he stayed where he was.

“My body says otherwise,” moaned Harry, pushing closer to Severus.

“Your body is lying.” Severus grunted, trying to get away again. “And cheating on your girlfriend, most likely.”

“I have a girlfriend?” Potter cried and let go of Severus. That didn't feel right.

“How should I know, Potter? We haven’t seen each other for a year!”

“A year? But I thought we are friends!”

“I have been many things to you, Potter, but friend and lover are none of them.”

Harry watched the man, thinking of the pictures he had seen in his flat. “I don't have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, given how my body is reacting to you.” He stated with conviction.

“How would you know, Potter. You forgot about your own magic.”

“But I knew I could trust you! The same way I knew I was close to Helena and Robert!”

“It’s Hermione and Ronald, you idiot. See, this is what I’m talking about!”

“Yes, them, doesn’t matter. I don't remember their names but I know they are family. Don't you think I would have a picture of my lover if I had one, not of you right next to where I sleep?”

 “We probably shouldn’t-“ was all Severus could say, before Harry kissed him again.

All previous thoughts gone, Severus tugged him closer trying to get Harry to sit on his lap. Potter thought otherwise. The young man simply leaned back, pulling Severus with him as well. They ended up on the floor, the rug warm and raggedy beneath them, and the book near their heads forgotten for a short time.

Quiet groans followed the soft caresses and the eager kisses. Less and less fabric stood in the way of skin to skin contact. Shirts unbuttoned and hanging loosely, pants unzipped and pushed down. Harry was the first to gather courage and reach inside Severus’s underwear, the first to grasp a shaking hand around a hard member.

Severus grunted when the fingers hesitantly closed around his cock. He arched his back, thrusting forward, before he captured the sinful lips between his teeth. He caressed Harry with a hand, pinched nipples, rubbed muscled abdomen, traced hipbones with the tip of his fingers. Nothing seemed enough; he wanted to be engulfed in the younger man. Harry pushed up his hips, Snape’s hand went further down.

He used his thumb to trace Potter’s hard cock that was still covered with dark, tight underwear. Potter groaned and rolled them around so that he could easily diminish his jeans and boxers. He then, sat up on Severus’ bare lap and with slow moves he pressed his cock to Snape’s. His languid thrusts were enticing. His whole body was naked except the shirt that still hung on him unbuttoned.  Severus used his left hand to grab their cocks, the extra friction causing a surge of pleasure to rush through him. His right hand went on Harry’s neck, pulling the other wizard down for sloppy but passionate kiss.

Harry grasped his strong hand around their pricks too, his fingers covered the red tips of both erections and Severus almost screamed when he thrust through the ring their hands created. Harry did scream when he came, his red, sore eyes watching the man beneath him, his gaze stuck on Severus’ black eyes. Potter fell forward and his orgasm reached Severus, too. He grunted, spurting his come into Harry’s hand which moved on his hard cock relentless, milking the last drop out of him.

Later that night when Severus came out of the bathroom and found Potter in his pyjama bottoms reading on the couch, he just smiled. “Come to bed.”

“Not yet,” said the young man, teary eyed again. “I want to read just a bit more.”

Severus stayed out with him all night. They fell asleep on the couch.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

The next few days passed in a haze for Harry. He was either reading, or making dinner (Severus took over lunch), or fucking his mind out somewhere in one of the rooms in Severus’ flat.

The last dawn Harry sneaked into the main bedroom.

“Severus?” He asked carefully, climbing onto the bed.

“Hm?” Came the coarse reply.

He kissed the sleepy head. “It’s almost over. This is it. We’re almost at the final battle.”

Severus yawned loudly then felt around on the nightstand for his wand. With a flick of it, he lighted up the candles over the bed. He sat up and leaned against the wooden headboard, tucking up a leg. He rubbed his eyes, yawned again and looked at Harry. “Come here.”

Harry sat between the older wizard’s legs and leaned back against his chest. “Thanks,” he mumbled as he pulled the covers over their bodies and started reading.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

“No, not him. You bastard... you can’t die...” Harry sobbed. “I don't want you to die.”

“Shh... it’s okay.” Severus said quietly.

“It’s not okay... he will die. He can't die,” whimpered Harry.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

 “Oh god, oh god... oh dear god... I don't believe it... All this time...”

“He loved her? And that’s why?”

“Yes... “

“Damn...”

Severus laced their fingers together over Harry’s stomach. Soon it would be all over. They were getting to the end of the magical book. Less and less pages remained.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

 “Oh god, he named his son after... oh god...I can’t deal with all the...”

“...feels.”

The sun was already up when they turned the last page. Harry was crying again, that wasn’t really a surprise. But the teardrop that fell silently down on Severus’ cheek... now _that_ surprised both of them.

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

Harry woke with a headache as if he had been drinking last night. It was past noon. He opened his eyes and his first thought was that he wasn’t in his own bed. Then he realized he remembered how his own bed felt like. He sat up and cast a glance to the half naked man beside him.

“This turned out better than I hoped.”

“What? Surely you don’t mean that blasted book. Too many people died. I don't like stories like that.”

“No, Severus, I mean my amnesia,” smiled the young man.

Snape visibly froze as he processed what Harry had said.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘better than you hoped’?” Severus sat up, too. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that suggests you anticipated an outcome. Which means you knew you would forget your memories. Now that sounds-“

“Don't get angry. It wasn’t my idea.”

“What was the _idea_ , in the first place?” Hissed Severus.

“Well, about a week before my amnesia, we chatted with Hermione about books and I mentioned how much I’d would like to forget about some of the books I’ve read so I could read them again and be surprised about everything all over again.”

“You did all this... forgetting your whole life... everything... _for a book_?” Snape asked, and Harry was sure the only reason his ex-Professor wasn’t screaming in anger was because he was too shocked.

“Well... you know...”

“No, I don't! I assure you, I have absolutely no idea what kind of idiocy took control of your mind this time.”

“So,” Harry went on quickly with the story, “she just said, she could place a temporary memory charm on me. I thought it was a joke. It turned out it wasn’t. She came back the next day with the book that described the theory behind it and she showed it to me. The spell seemed safe and you know Hermione, there isn’t a charm, hex, spell, curse or counter-curse she can't cast properly. So she tried it out. I lost all my memories until I read a note she wrote to me.”

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and Harry knew he was in deep shit right away.

“I had to leave the Auror Forces for two weeks, they said I work too hard and I need temporary leave, and Hermione thought, it would be the perfect time to do this. And I agreed.”

“And how the hell did I come into this _oh so bloody brilliant_ plan, Potter?” Sneered the older wizard.

“You didn't... actually.”

“Excuse me?”

“Coming here... that wasn’t _in_ the plan. That was Hermione. That’s her handwriting in the note.”

Severus stared at him and Harry knew what was about to come. He had heard it enough times. So he spoke before Snape could even open his mouth.

“Before you go all “bloody imbecile” on me, let me tell you that-“ Harry couldn't finish. Severus smacked his pillow into the young man’s face, shutting him effectively up.

“You bloody imbecile! You- How could you do this? Are you telling me I opened up my home to you and all this time this was just a... a set up?” Severus shouted. “How could you use such a dangerous spell for selfish reasons like this? Are you completely out of your mind!?”

“Oh don’t you speak about selfish reasons Severus Snape! You created your own bloody lubricating spell,” shouted Harry over Severus’ fuming voice.

“That is not-“

“I’ve been in love with you for ages, Severus. That’s why Hermione did it, if you want to know.”

“No, I don't car- What did you just say?”

Harry smiled and tossed the pillow back at Severus. “I’m in love with you. I have been since... I don't even know how long. Hermione and Ron knew, of course they did. Why do you think I have a bloody picture of you on my nightstand? You’re not that pretty...” Harry grumbled.

Severus stared at him for a while, and then let out an amused snort which shortly turned into laughing.

“You’re the biggest idiot I have ever met. The next time you wish to confess something to me, just use the bloody door.”

“Oh I didn't want to confess. I wanted to take this to the grave with me. I’ve never imagined you would be... so welcoming.”

“And once again you were wrong about me. Honestly, Harry...”

“Oh well, then I imagine I should just...get to know you better, so I won't misjudge your flawless character anymore.”

“Perhaps you should.”

Harry sneaked closer. “So you’re not angry?”

“Oh, I am angry. And I’m going to have a word with Miss Granger.” Severus snapped, but then grasped Harry’s neck and pulled him in a heated kiss. “However, luckily her scheme turned out better than expected and besides...” He lay down and pulled Harry over him. “Some books are worth rereading.”

**o.O_____________________________ >_<**

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> The idea behind this was inspired by a chat with my dearest Sheankelor. I told her how much I would love to forget everything about the HP books so that I can reread them all over again. She said, temporary memory charm. And here we are. 
> 
> Don't tell me you never felt like this about a book..


End file.
